Pianoman
by Nikolai Princely
Summary: Now that Voldemort is dead, along with some precious people, Harry feels suspended. Can anyone break him from his lethargy? Is there anyway to soothe his weary soul? Who can make the Boy Who Lived live again? SLASH, slight AU, PTSD and music therapy. ON HIATUS
1. First Light

**Edited Version.**

Petunia jumped and spun around with a squeak, her hand flying to her mouth and her eyes wide with astonishment. Just outside the window an owl pecked impatiently on the glass. Not hard enough to cause damage but enough to get the point across. She sighed with relief and evident irritation. Her hand shifted down over her racing heart and she glared at the owl as her cheeks were painted with embarrassment. "Ruddy bird" she muttered angrily. It was much too early for these sort of things Petunia thought whilst stalking over to the window, her red high heels tapped loudly on the kitchen tile. She threw open the window, nearly toppling the poor bird and ushered it in before the neighbors could see.

Tentatively she reached out with her delicate fingers to the owls proffered leg, tugging at the letter strings as though repulsed by an insect. When it was free from the brown lump of feathers she hastily shooed it back out the window, careful not to touch the godforsaken animal. Slamming the window close she huffed, "How barbaric!"

"What is?" a voice from the doorway asked grumpily. Petunia quirked an eyebrow at her nephew and sniffed, "Your appearance for one."

Harry Potter was in a state of disarray. His hair was greasy and stuck up so stiffly his aunt very well thought he might be picking up on radio waves. His clothing hadn't changed only the quality of it was far less than hygienic and the boy was in desperate need of a shave. However, she noted, he looked much better rested than he had all week.

Harry rolled his eyes, "Sorry Aunt Petunia." he grumbled and staggered forward sleepily. Petunia likened his lack of a bitterly sarcastic response due not having any caffeine yet that day, the boy was an addict. He reached out across the table to grab the mail when she snatched them from the surface.

"You're not getting these letters until you shower, brush your teeth, shave and for god-sakes, boy, put on some clean clothes!" she snapped at him. Harry glared at her for a moment then turned away to do as he was told. He had given up arguing with his aunt when she was determined. Since they had recently mended their relationship he discovered that his aunt almost always was looking out for his best interests. They got along relatively well, even gone so far as having civil and emotional conversations. However, Harry wished she would use his name more often in place of just 'boy'.

Petunia shook her head as her nephew reluctantly left the room, mumbling under his breath. No doubt complaining about being ordered around. She turned away to get the coffee going. Yes, Harry would be in a much better mood once he was caffeinated.

Once he looked and felt like he belonged among civilized society, Harry came back downstairs to the kitchen to drink his coffee whilst reading his mail. Aunt Petunia still thought he looked a bit disorderly but supposed there was no helping that now. She would have to be content with the fact that he was at least clean. Sitting with him at the breakfast table, she watched him as they ate silently, Harry engrossed in his letters.

"Hmm," Harry grunted around his pancake, he finished chewing and without looking at his aunt he said, "My friend Ron and his family want me to stay with them for part of the summer again."

Petunia gazed at him with interest, "Will you go?"

He sighed, "I should but..." he trailed off, glancing guiltily off to the side. It's been a while since he responded to their letters. Harry loved the Weasley's, they had always been good to him but after everything that happened in sixth year, destroying the horcruxes and defeating Voldemort, he couldn't help but feel somewhat responsible for their losses. He wasn't conceited enough to believe it was entirely his fault; it was war and people died. Dobby, Tonks, Remus, Dumbledore and Fred...Harry shut his eyes as his mind flooded with memory.

"Harry?" his aunt called to him gently, placing her hand on his wrist, "You don't have to feel obliged to see them just yet."

He opened his eyes and nodded, refusing to look at her no doubt concerned expression. Clearing his throat he moved on to his Hogwarts letter. He would confront his emotions later. This was the first time he wasn't looking forward to returning but he had to finish his seventh year, at least. The letter held the usual introduction and supplies list but there was something else too. Harry blinked at the parchment in front of him. An arts festival?

Apparently there was an event to take place at Hogwarts that hasn't occurred in almost 35 years. The war had given way to a peace that seemed to settle over the entire globe. Wizarding schools from around the world were sending their best artists, dancers, actors and musicians to Hogwarts to compete with one another and celebrate the freedom of choice and expression. Harry actually found himself nodding in approval. This event could take the students' attention away from him.

"Vernon won't be in from Manchester until late tonight and Dudley will probably be spending the rest of the day with his friends at the beach," Petunia talked as she cleared the table, "what do you want to do today?" She glanced at him then leaned over to see what had him so fascinated. "Ooh an arts festival, your mother and I used to do piano recitals."

Harry immediately perked up, it wasn't often Petunia mentioned his mother so lightly, "You did? Were you any good?"

Petunia chuckled, "Lily didn't have the patience to go far with it, she'd much rather play outside with...Severus," she sneered; ironically looking like him, "I still play sometimes at the local church," she finished dryly.

Harry was about to ask more questions but his aunt gave him a look that clearly said she was getting annoyed. He shuddered remembering what his aunt said about Dudley being at the beach. For the sake of the other people on that beach, he hoped his cousin kept a shirt on.

Later that day Harry went into London to keep busy. He would much rather have stayed indoors with his aunt to avoid the public eye but she had insisted and when he stubbornly refused she forced him to leave even going as far as to lock the doors. He stayed clear of the Leaky Cauldron for obvious reasons and just to feel more secure he kept the hood up on his gray jumper. Wondering when his aunt had become so adept at being sneaky, he fingered the money she slipped in his back pocket. It must have been from all that spying on the neighbors.

Harry wandered the streets, looking at shop displays until one caught his eye, a music store. Remembering what his aunt had said he shrugged and stepped inside. He milled about for a bit, looking at the array of instruments, he was just observing an interesting design on a guitar when noise from behind him caught his attention.

A young man that seemed to be about his own age was tuning a piano. Something about him seemed curiously familiar. Harry picked up a catalog and pretended to browse through it as he regarded the young man with intrigue.

He looked like he belonged there, surrounded by instruments, he seemed in his element. Much like a doe in the woods, foraging among the trees. His visage reminded Harry of the posters he'd seen of rock stars. Tearing away his gaze he chose to glance around the store; only three other people were there with him. A girl stood behind the register, browsing through her MP3 player, a man with a fauxhawk was eying up a drum set and then there was him...the piano man.

The piano man, as Harry called him in his mind, was about Ron's height but the way he carried himself with such confidence made him seem taller. His clothes were simple: t-shirt, pants, boots, chain wallet and wristbands all sporting a common theme. Black. Even his hair was black and it came down to his collarbone in soft layers. Harry watched his arms as he worked the piano and noted with no small amount of approval the muscles he saw there. Fast becoming embarrassed with the way his thoughts were going, he shifted away to the other side of the store, deliberately keeping his eyes off the piano man.

Nonetheless he couldn't help feeling self-conscious knowing the guy was there just behind him. He was wondering whether he should sneak another glance over his shoulder when suddenly as if he'd been hit by a freight train Harry's mind seized up. A lively melodic tune grasped his ears and he turned, slowly, enraptured. The piano man's slender fingers glided across the keys and caressed them, gently guiding them to release sweet note after note. The movements were so fluid, so hypnotic, so _seductive _Harry found himself drifting closer. His body was being tugged forward unwittingly as though attempting to absorb the music through proximity.

The piano man's nimble hands could have been dancing along the surface of water for all their flighty grace. Each note was like a strike of a hammer against hot metal in Harry's brain, it created a ringing that sung through his body and singed, pleasantly, at his nerves. A shiver passed through him.

When the short piece ended a new tune entered his world and it sounded suspiciously like a laugh. Harry jolted back to reality and discovered himself to be locking gazes with the piano man, who was smiling at him smugly.

"I take it, it was awful then." Gentle brown eyes surveyed him knowingly.

"Err..." Harry wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans and wracked his brain for the proper response; "it was beautiful!" he blurted then glanced down sheepishly. _Stupid! Stupid! _He thought.

The young man just shrugged and stood, "It was alright for what it was. Vocals would have made it better." Harry only nodded in agreement even though in his opinion it was more that just "alright".

"Are you a musician?" the piano man asked, bending down to retrieve a fallen music stand.

Harry licked his lips nervously as he watched the motion, "Er no, I'm just looking."

"Want to become one then?"

Harry shrugged, "Maybe."

The other man smirked, "What's your name?"

"Harry P-"

Stiff Kittens by Blaqk Audio playing in bad quality cut off his reply. The piano man took out his cell phone and cast him an apologetic look. He backed away to answer it, "Hello? Padre?" he went off in a string of Italian. Harry's eyebrows shot up; he thought he had heard an accent.

"Sorry about that, parents, you know how they are." said the young man.

"Actually I don't." Harry replied rather bitterly. Immediately he regretted his tone because he didn't like seeing the other's downcast expression.

"Mi dispiace. I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it." Harry mumbled.

"Hey, I have to go, nice meeting you though. Maybe we'll see each other around?"

"Sure nice meeting you too." He really meant that.

"Well...ciao!" The piano man stood there looking at him for a couple seconds then left.

It wasn't until Harry was lying in bed that night that he realized he'd never gotten his name.

* * *

**AN:** Mi Dispiace means I'm sorry in Italian. I will be including bits of the language but I will make it clear what it means. Let me know what you think and especially let me know about grammar/spelling mistakes. I need a beta.

Please visit my profile and at least read my latest update. Grazie!

Ciao


	2. Miles and Miles Away

Harry awoke early with his arms wrapped tightly around the pillow. He squinted at his alarm clock, blinking away the bleariness. 7:23! Usually he didn't wake up till close to noon. Lately it seemed as if all Harry did was sleep, eat and watch old romantic muggle films with his aunt. Surprisingly enough despite all the sleep he never felt rested. Last night his dreams where filled with a certain tune and the fingers that created the colorful melody. He surmised that because of this instead of the usual nightmares, he had awoken refreshed.

When he got out of bed a scowl formed on his face. The movement reminded him how cloudy his mind was before he had coffee. Rubbing the ache in his temples he went downstairs to amend the problem. He ignored his aunts and uncles shock at seeing him awake at this hour and went straight for the coffee pot. Halfway across the kitchen he collided into an empty chair and jammed his toe. Cursing loudly and growling at the sharp pain he realized with no lack of humiliation that he forgot his glasses upstairs. Blushing furiously and brushing off his guardians reprimand for his vulgarities he carefully picked his way back to his room.

He bumped into Dudley along the way. How he could have missed seeing that hulk of a boy? He didn't know.

"Harry! You're up early!"

"You think?" he snapped grouchily. His glare didn't have any affect though since he was already squinting to see his cousin.

"Don't have to be rude ya know!" Dudley retorted. There was no 'slipping by' Dudley, he had to back up and wait for the great lump to thump down the stairs in order for Harry to continue on to his room.

"Don't have to cause a bloody earthquake everytime you move ya know." Harry muttered angrily but Dudley was too far away to hear him.

Relations with his cousin hadn't improved as much as it did with his aunt. They didn't go out of their way to goad each other and Dudley had matured enough he wasn't a bully anymore. However, they still wanted little to do with one another. Harry because he wasn't much liking company these days, especially with those his own age (they reminded him of how he _should_ be acting now that he was care free but for some reason couldn't). Dudley thought Harry was sulking and prudish and just downright _boring_. He thought heroes were supposed to be cool not dorky. So typical were the musings of an ignorant teenager such as Harry's cousin.

Glasses and glare in place Harry returned to find his aunt had a cup of coffee waiting for him. As he leaned against the counter he could feel his humanity returning with each sip of the heavily caffeinated "black sludge" as his aunt called it.

"Well I'm off." Vernon grunted as he heaved his weight off the chair. "Breakfast was delicious, as usual." Petunia smiled as her husband kissed her on the cheek and left for work. Dudley was about to leave too, saying he promised to meet Piers at the theatre when his mother asked if she could talk to him in the living room.

Paying no mind to the interaction Harry finished his coffee and poured himself another cup. He set himself to clearing the table then sat down with a bowl of Fruity Pebbles to comtemplate what he had seen..._experienced _the other day. So consumed by his thoughts if it were not for the fact that Dudley's sheer mass made is impossible for him to be quiet, he wouldn't have heard him come back into the kitchen.

He stood over Harry in silence, who looked up at him expectantly. His cousin sniffed, flicked his nose with his thumb then crossed his arms, looking as though he wanted to say something but was reluactant to do so.

"Yes?" Harry inquired impatiently, irritated at having his muse interupted.

"Do you want to go to the movies...with me and Piers?" Dudley asked awkwardly. Harry was taken aback, his eyes darted to his aunt standing in the doorway and realization dawned on him. Petunia must have made Dudley invite him. Strangely enough he actually considered accepting the offer. If only to see Dudley's face, he no doubt assumed Harry wouldn't want to go. Said boy was squirming under his thoughtful gaze.

"Ok! Sounds like fun!" Harry replied with false cheerfulness. Dudley took two steps back, astonished. His aunt looked both relieved and concerned, she probably picked up on his sarcastic tones.

* * *

It turned out the movie was some mindless, fantastical action film that made Harry uneasy to watch. Giving up on actually enjoying it he left with out a word. Dudley and Piers were too absorbed to notice. It was about noon and Harry didn't feel like heading home yet so he took a walk into London to clear his head. Thinking about how uncomfortable he was with the movie, he associated with the fact that it made him reminisce on the war. It was so fresh in his mind still yet almost incomprehensible.

Trying to remove the impending thoughts of his losses he glanced about to pinpoint exactly where he was. Burlington Avenue, a sign said, Harry frowned, wondering why it was so familiar. Oh, right, he was here yesterday looking at the shops down Kanary Street. Further recognization passed through him, the music store is down this way! Suddenly determined to find out that young man's name, he made his way through a throng of people with a purposeful stride.

Arriving at the shop he bumped into someone coming the other way, causing him to stagger backwards. "Not again!" he groaned.

"Watch where you're going, Potter!" A familiar snarky, baritone snarled at him.

"Professor Snape!" he exclaimed, bewildered by his sudden appearance, "What are you doing here!" he said before he could stop himself.

"I do not believe that's any of your business." Snape answered more softly. He gave Harry one of his measuring looks then turned away, "Good day Mr. Potter."

He watched the dark man get in a sleek black car and pull away from the curb swiftly. He disappeared around the corner in a Ford Mercury Marauder (how ironic). Harry shrugged and looked over and almost did a double take. There was the piano man! Standing just outside the shop staring in the direction of Snape's path with a confused expression, dressed in a similar fashion as yesterday. Harry couldn't help notice how well it suited him.

"Er...hi?" Harry winced at his high-pitched voice. Where had that come from?

Blinking rapidly the piano man sent him an odd look, "You know him?"

Now it was Harry's turn to blink, "Who? Snape?"

The young man chuckled, "Yeah, him, how do you know him? Are you one of his students?"

Harry smiled, he liked his laugh, "Yeah he-" his eyes widened as the implications hit him, "You're a wizard!"

"Hey! Not so loud!"

Grinning meekly as the passing muggles regarded him as if he were mental, he apologized.

The pianoman shrugged, "Cio che...whatever. Coming inside?"

Harry nodded, perhaps a little too eagerly, "Oh wait, I never got your name!"

"Huh? Oh," The piano man held the door open for him, "Sono Cyrus."

Harry stepped inside and turned around, "Sono?" He repeated. What an odd name.

He snorted, "Sono is italian for 'I'm'. Sorry for the slip."

Harry could've slapped himself, "Oh no problem, I don't mind. So Cyrus, right?"

"Yeah and if you make any jokes about Hannah Montana I'll shoot you in the face." he said flatly

Startled by the threat he echoed, confused, "Hannah Montana? Who is that?" The name itself disgusted him. It was so..._cutesy._

Cyrus grinned, "I knew there was something I liked about you."

The tension drained from his shoulders and he smiled back.

* * *

He wandered about the store for the better part of an hour pretending to be extremely interested in his surroundings. The truth was he only had eyes for Cyrus. It turned out that he worked there part time, repairing the instuments and attending their maintenance. He didn't know why but he had the urge to be friends with him. Maybe what his aunt said about his mum playing piano really stuck in his subconcious.

"Ok Cyrus, I'm gone. Think you can handle things with our little friends?" The girl who worked the register smiled over at her co-worker.

"I think I'll manage, Tori, thanks." he chuckled and went back to dusting the piano. The dark blonde-haired girl mimicked him with a really bad impression of an Italian accent.

Cyrus glared and threw the rag at her, "Get outta my store, _cagnina_!" he shot back flippantly.

"_Your _store! Whatever! I mean..._cio che_. Haha ciao!" She ducked out the door before Cyrus could do anything else. She poked her head back on for a moment to wink at Harry then scurried off, laughing. He ducked his head and blushed. Wait, blush? He didn't blush!

"So, Harry?"

He cleared his throat, which had suddenly become thick for some reason, "Yeah?"

"See anything you like?"

"Hmm..." _Well...you_ Harry thought absently. He glanced around, avoiding the piano man's eyes, crinkled in amusement.

"You seemed really interested in the piano yesterday... or was it me?" he joked, sittting down behind the piano, "Did you wanna hear another song?"

Harry smiled, "That'd be great."

Unlike yesterday this piece was more somber but drew him in just as much. The melody wrapped around him, warped his senses, he resisted the urge to close his eyes, fearing to lose himself in it. Then as if it shouldn't even been possible, the piano man's voice joined in and Harry took in a sharp breath. It was so unexpected and pleasant and hauntingly beautiful it sent shivers up his spine. Emotions turned to sound were drawn smoothly into the air, like a cool gentle mist that settled over Harry's soul, cleansingly. This time Harry really did close his eyes.

* * *

**AN:** I haven't reread this one so there's probably a lot of mistakes I don't know about. I was greatly encouraged by my readers. I didn't expect it to garner so much attention so quickly. Do you think the plot is moving too fast?

Cio che = Whatever

Cagnina = bitch :]


	3. You Got Red On You

Harry woke up early again to find himself hugging his pillow _again_ except this time he had his teeth around the corner as well. He let go slowly, feeling ridiculous by his own actions. Remembering his glasses this time he grabbed his coffee, mumbling a greeting to his immediate family who promptly waved him off then shuffled back up the stairs to his room.

Drinking his morning cup of ambition he reread the mail he recieved several days ago. Thankfully, his friends were long used to his procrastinated replies. Today he worked up the motivation to answer them, gathering around his infamous courage. Courage that failed him at the music store. For some reason he was afraid to talk to Cyrus. Well not so much afraid as self-concious. If he didn't bite his tongue he'd have been rambling and he wasn't sure which made him look more like a fool. Shaking his head he tried to focus on answering his letters. Unsuccessfully his mind wandered back to the piano man. He wondered if he was working again today, he hoped so he wanted to see him again. Harry sighed what if Cyrus thought he was being creepy?

A knocking on the door jolted him from his reverie. Sighing, he moved over lazily to open it, revealing his aunt standing there with a dainty fist raised to knock again.

"Would you like to go to the store with me Harry?" she asked gently. These days his aunt did anything to get him out of the house. It wasn't healthy for a teenager to be isolated all the time. Especially after all that's happened.

Harry glanced over his shoulder at his letters and sighed. He might as well give up on concentrating now. Nodding, then smiling when his aunt looked pleased he shut his door to give him privacy in order to get ready. Afterall, he wouldn't want to embarass his aunt by looking scruffy. Thinking he just may go to the music store again he was more careful with his appearance. Not that he had many choices and definitely not that he cared much about what Cyrus thought, he just really enjoyed his music. Settling on the white collared button-up from his school uniform and baggy jeans that past the smell test, he brushed his teeth and went downstairs to meet his aunt.

She hummed in approval, "Now if only we could do something about that hair!

Harry smiled coyly, "It's alright Aunt Petunia, your hair isn't really that bad. It'll grow back!" She pursed her lips and whacked him with her blue handbag to which he responded with a grin.

* * *

While they perused the aisles in the grocery, Petunia attempted to make conversation. "Have you spoken to your friends yet?" This was exactly what he didn't want to talk about. He forced back another frustrated sigh, the question was asked innocently enough.

"No." he quipped. His aunt frowned a she picked up a can of tomato sauce and placed it in the cart. Neither said anything for the next few minutes.

"I think you should go see them." Petunia spoke out suddenly.

"What?" he stared at her.

Sighing she paused in the middle of the frozen food aisle and scrutinzed her nephew, "Those people obviously love you very much, though God knows why." she teased him goodnaturedly, "I can't imagine how worried they are about you. You can't keep to yourself, they probably need you as much as you need them. You must admit that to youself!"

Harry growled and spun away from her, "Just the other day you said I wasn't obliged to see them and now you're practically forcing me to go!"

Outraged Petunia sputtered, "I'm not forcing you to do anything , boy, I'm just considering it's what's best for you!"

Temper flaring dangerously he rounded on her, "Since when the fuck did you start caring! Feeling guilty now for neglecting me!!" People around them were staring and whispering at his outburst. "Stop fucking staring at me!!" he screamed, the shoppers quickly backed away. "Harry!" his aunt hissed. His face twisted into a horrible, anguished expression and he fled, taking off through the store, everyone gasped scrambling to get out of his way. He was almost to the door when he slipped on wet tile and faceplanted. He was instantly back on his feet and bolting outside.

* * *

Cyrus stepped off the train and jogged up the steps to Burlington Avenue. He had been disappointed when his father had been unable to drive him but he hated traffic anyways. He was early for his usual shift at Torque's Music Center and it was definitely NOT because he was hoping a certain green-eyed wizard would be there. Nope, he was always nearly twenty minutes early. If he WAS happy to see him it was because he hadn't been in England long and didn't know that many people. Not any of whom were so easily impressed by his music as Harry was. If only his father would take the time to listen to him play.

So thoroughly immersed in his inner monologue he almost tripped over a figure slumped against one of the buildings a few blocks from the shop. He was about to ignore the incident and move on but something made him look back and when he did his dark eyes widened considerably. "Harry?" he questioned in disbelief. The very same young man he'd been thinking about was gazing sightlessly ahead of him while tears tracks made their way down his bloodied face. Typical of a large city, no one else spared him a second glance.

Brows furrowing with apprehension Cyrus hurried over to his new friend. "Harry?" he called to him again, carefull placing his hands on the smaller wizard's shoulders. His frown deepened when he got no response. Trying one more time he stood back, peturbed. What should he do? His eyes darted up and down the street and he paced in a circle, running a hand through his long hair.

"Ok, come on." Cyrus made his decision. He tugged kindly at Harry's elbow until he stood up straight and let Cyrus lead him away. It wasn't long before he noticed Harry's trembling and how unsteady he was on his feet. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up. The sooner you get off the streets the better." The slightly taller man wrapped an arm around him for supported and proceeded as quickly as they could to the shop. Cyrus occasionally spurring him on by saying things like, "If you collapse in front of all these people you'll embarass youself." Or some nonsense in Italian that couldn't have been nice by his tone.

Tori rushed forward as they entered the shop, "What happened? Is he ok?" she gushed.

"Does he look ok!?" Cyrus snarled, "Help me get him to the back room." Tori immediately clammed up and supported Harry from the other side. They lead him through a door behind the left side of the counter and settled him on the couch inside. Tori went about gathering a water bottle from the mini-fridge and a clean rag.

Harry sat dazed, exhaustion and despair flooding his features, drowning the handsome face Cyrus knew lay underneath. Too concerned to think much further he carefully went about moping up the blood on his newly found companions face. Once enough of it was gone he could clearly see that the wizard's nose was broken. His expression darkened further, he had to fix it but Tori was a muggle and he didn't want to scare her with his magic and he certainly wasn't adept enough to perform an Obliviation Spell. Not with any progress anyway.

Thinking rapidly he tried to imagine what his father would do. He blew a frustrated sigh through his nose, his father would be able to do a memory spell, he thought blandly. Then an idea hit him, "Tori! Run down to the store and grab some ice, painkillers and..." he trailed off uncertainly, "something chocolate." He started to pull his wallet out his back pocket but was stopped when Tori placed her hand on his arm, shaking her head.

"Don't worry about it! I got it covered!"

"...you sure?" He narrowed his eyes.

"Yeah, totally! I'll take care of it." She nodded her head eagerly.

"Ok." he mumbled slowly.

"Be back soon!" She took off. He hoped not _too _soon.

As soon as he heard the shop door close his wand was out. He breathed in and pointed it toward the middle of Harry's face. Suddenly a hand shot out and clamped down on his wrist in a death grip.

"Harry?" he questioned uncertainly, "Your nose is broken, I'm going to fix it ok? Trust me?" Mentally berating himself he bit back a curse, what a stupid thing to say! Of course he wouldn't trust him! They just met!

The hand dropped and Cyrus sighed, "_Episky."_ Now that that was taken care of he worked on clearing away the rest of the blood. He breifly contemplated doing a cleaning spell on Harry's stained white shirt, which looked rather nice on him but decided it would be too suspicious when Tori came back. Blinking he looked back at Harry's face to find the other watching him carefully. Cyrus sat back on his heels in front of him and tilted his head slighty, "What is it?" he asked.

"It's strange."

Cyrus waited patiently for him to elaborate.

"I'm...I'm so used to helping people...saving people. That's what my whole life has really been about." He watched Cyrus reaction but was met with only quiet acceptance as the pianoman listened. He continued on voicing his thoughts.

"It's just kinda strange to actually be on the other side of that."

Cyrus merely snorted, "I didn't save you, Harry. I just fixed your nose. If I had really saved you the reason you got a bloody nose wouldn't be there."

Harry smiled benignly in agreement. What he wanted to tell the pianoman is that he did save him, twice, each time he heard him play piano. Now that _would_ be stalkerish.

"Harry?" Cyrus got his attention, "You don't have to tell me but why exactly was I cleaning blood off your face?"

Any thoughts of answering was interrupted by hurried footsteps and then a small girl bursting into the room holding grocery bags, looking flustered. Cyrus rolled his eyes and muttered something incomprehensible and probably not in English.

* * *

**A/N:** If you're curious about what Cyrus' music sounds like visit the last section of my profile and listen to what inspired me. The songs are listed in order as written. Let me know what you think! Or suggest songs?

Also, you should all thank **Clarrolx** for this chapter. Not only did she kick my ass to get it over to her, I might not have to been able to post it without her. My computer is down, I'll try to make regular updates frequent but they will be shorter than planned.


	4. Dessert Before Dinner

AN: When was my last update? March or something like that? Shame on me. All who read this should thank my beta reader Clarrolx for if she hadn't nagged me persistently you wouldn't be viewing this chapter. She's great and I highly recommend reading her work. Please review!

* * *

"You never did answer my question." Cyrus sat next to Harry on the couch.

It was now late afternoon and the annoyingly worrisome Tori had taken off to some sort of art workshop. It took quite a bit of convincing from both of them to assure her that Harry would be fine but in the end she said goodbye, trusting Cyrus to finish locking up the store.

"Like I said," Cyrus continued on in Harry's silence, "you don't have to tell me, I won't force you to. Could you at least say why you were so close to the shop? Or was that coincidence?" He hoped he didn't make it obvious how much he wanted Harry to say he had run to him. It was foolish anyhow, they'd only just met.

Harry felt his face warm and suddenly became interested in the pattern of blood on his once pristine white shirt. Suddenly embarrassed he cast a cleaning spell. Avoiding his eyes he mumbled, "No."

"Cosa?"

Harry sighed, "No, it wasn't exactly a coincidence..." He trailed off uncertainly.

Cyrus hummed and waited for him to continue. After a moment in silence he offered him another Reese's cup and took one for himself. Harry accepted it from his hand slowly. Seeming not to notice, Cyrus wasted no time in peeling off the wrapper. Swallowing, Harry watched him sink his teeth into the chocolate shell and found himself fascinated by the way his lips and jaw moved as he savored the candy. His eyes traced the movement of his adam's apple and could not help but imagine it sliding down his throat...

His gaze flickered upward then shot back to the floor. Smirking down at him was Cyrus, not in a cocky way like Malfoy but in an amused, knowing sort of way.

"What is it?" he asked, his voice betrayed his laughter. The musician stopped himself from reaching out and turning the shorter man's face to him. Harry cleared his throat and without looking replied, "What is it with wizards and chocolate? Some people think it makes everything better."

"Because it does," Cyrus answered casually catching on, "chocolate has a magical effect on wizards. Sort of like cats and catnip or unicorns and mint."

Harry nodded, relieved that he latched on to the change of subject. Though he didn't couldn't see it, he could hear Cyrus unwrapping another Reeses and fought back the urge to watch again. What was wrong with him? He could almost imagine Ron's voice teasing him about being gay.

"Figo!" Cyrus exclaimed, making Harry sit up in surprised.

"Wha...?" He blinked at him.

"Look!" Smiling brightly Cyrus showed him two brown wrappers that had come off the candy, "I got one with a double wrapper, it's good luck!"

Harry chuckled, "I didn't know that." It sounded to him like a silly superstition.

"That's 'cause I just made it up." Cyrus stated proudly. Harry snorted in response and shook his head.

"So listen Harry," The pianoman sounded as if he were about to say something serious, "It's almost six and since my shift is over my father expects me to be home for dinner."

Harry tried to push down his anxiety at the thought of going home. His aunt had to be extremely upset with him.

"...unless I tell him I'm having dinner somewhere else." he left the suggestion hanging in the air. Harry felt his hopes rise tentatively.

"Do you like sushi?" he blurted out abruptly. Cyrus' eyebrow rose slightly but otherwise seemed unfazed by his outburst. He smiled, "I love sushi."

After calling his father to explain his plans Cyrus let Harry lead him to a little hole in the wall restaurant by an underground metro station. Upon entering they were immediately barraged with the smell of fresh fish. The dingy place was lit with flourescent light bulbs, the walls looked the same as the ones on the subway tunnel and were lined with small, mismatching tables and chairs. All this dim gray coloring contrasted with the back wall in a funny sort of paradox. Behind the pristine white counter were a myriad of colorful ingredients and kitchenware. Simple, traditional Japanese artwork were placed haphazardly above the food stations and a simple menu displaying the purchases hung on the far left above the register. Behind the register was a large man as colorful as his surroundings.

"Interesting place," Cyrus commented, "any recommendations?"

"The rainbow roll. Definitely." Harry nodded. They ordered their food and stood off to the side to watch the man make it. Afterwards they sat down by the window, nodding to a couple who just came into the store. Harry waited impatiently for Cyrus to take the first bite, fidgeting in his seat and playing with his chopsticks. Giving Harry a pointed look he took his time pouring out the soy sauce and spreading a little wasabi on it. Cyrus grinned at Harry's scowling face before taking mercy on him and eating. Bliss furrowed his dark eyebrows and he hummed with appreciation.

"Delizioso! Bene, this is amazing."

As Harry's face split into a grin, a shiver was traveling up his spine. Cyrus sounded so smooth when he spoke Italian. In Harry's mind he drew a strange analogy; Cyrus when he spoke English was like a typical English car: simple, practical design. When he spoke Italian the sounds are liquefied and he was like an Italian car: sleek, smooth and designed for fun.

"This is the best sushi place I ever been to." Harry watched him eagerly take another bite. He shook himself mentally and began working at polishing off his own meal.

"Do you have sushi in Italy?"

Cyrus snorted and rolled his eyes, swallowing he replied, "Of course there is, if you hadn't noticed Italy is great deal closer to Japan than England. Not to mention it's a center trading point."

"Right." Harry glanced away sheepishly. "So what's it like there?"

Cyrus launched into a detailed explanation of the villa he lived in with his mother and two sisters. He talked about the vineyards, the grand white piano he initially learned to play on, and the underground scene in the city.

"I guess your mom is pretty wealthy?" Harry asked.

"Well..." Cyrus frowned, "My stepfather is very successful. My mother's villa is her inheritance, consequently mine too but the family moved to a larger estate owned entirely by my stepfather and I came here."

"Oh." Harry wonder if he should press forward or if it would be a sensitive subject. "It sounds like a great place. I've always wanted to live somewhere like that." with Sirius. He forced down the sobering thoughts of his late godfather.

Cyrus smiled, 'I'd love to take you there sometime." Smiling back Harry's imagination sparked with colorful images of the Italian countryside and sharing it with Cyrus. He loved the idea.

"Harry." Said wizard blinked away his reverie and focused on his new favorite musician. Cyrus had a look on his face that told Harry he probably wasn't going to like what was coming.

"What happened to you?" Something in his voice made Harry feel as though he wanted to spill everything to him, yet he was afraid of what Cyrus would think of him. He didn't want to seem stupid or weak and it didn't help that his brain failed to work properly when he was around. It was like when he was alone his head was filled with cotton and it wouldn't clear out until he saw Cyrus again, but as soon as he looks into the piano man's dark eyes it goes blank, making him feel new and oddly enough, comfortable.

Harry couldn't make sense of any of it. A man he recently met, one he saw in only two instances, and for some reason Harry felt as if Cyrus was the only person he could run to. Maybe, Harry thought, it was simply the enchanting music he played.

The Italian sat in silence, waiting for Harry to make his move. Licking his lips Harry began to describe the events taken place earlier that day. When he finished he looked tentatively into Cyrus' eyes and found them to be gentle and held no judgment.

"What is it about this family that you're so opposed to?" He asked calmly.

"Nothing!" He yelled, Harry's anger rose briefly but died just as quickly as it came.

"I did not mean..." Cyrus started to apologize.

"It's ok!" Harry hurriedly tries to reassure him, how could he know about his relationship with the Weasley's? He could only make assumptions from what he's been told. "The Weasley's...they're like the family I never really had. I think they're great, I love them but...I don't know if I can face them yet." He frowned severely.

"Why? Did you have a fight?"

"Well...yeah. Not an argument, but I mean the last battle..." He trailed off brokenly.

Realization dawned on Cyrus' face, "You were in the war." he whispered.

Snapping to attention he stared wide eyed across the table in disbelief. Harry shook his head, dazed, "Of course I was! It was my responsibility! I was the only one who could defeat Voldemort!"

Cyrus only looked confused. Could it really be that the war was only Monday morning news in Italy? Harry actually felt really good about it. He automatically assumed since Cyrus is a wizard, he would already know about the identity of the Boy-Who-Lived.

"You really don't know?' He asked incredulously.

"Know what?" Cyrus blinked, "You're the one who defeated the Dark Lord?" He raised a dark eyebrow in such a way that was oddly familiar to Harry, though he couldn't place why.

"Yeah but I had a lot of help."

"From the Weasley family?"

"Yes."

"...One of them died didn't they?"

Harry nodded somberly.

"I see..." Cyrus gazed off to the side for a moment, "I think you should see them." He said with conviction.

Startled Harry stared hard at him, "What?"

"If I were you I'd visit. You said they want to see you and it might prove to be for the best if only to let them know you still care because ignoring them would be a lot worse."

Harry opened his mouth to protest but Cyrus rushed to continue.

"Think about it! As soon as the fighting picked up again I didn't see my father for years, no letters, nothing. Even before then I was never allowed to stay with him because it was too dangerous. It was tough waiting around for any bit of information that could at least tell me whether or not he was alive. I almost lost him and thanks to you I can get to know my father. The people you love need to know how you are. Good or bad, they deserve to know because they care. With all you've been through, I think you need each other more than ever." He was adamant about everything he said. His eyes stressed the importance of his words, begging Harry to understand.

A long moment passed and Harry swallowed thickly, nodding. When he glanced up his eyes shone with a thin layer of tears he would be ashamed to let loose. Cyrus was right, the Weasley's must be hurt that he hadn't so much as responded to their letters. Especially after they were all so tender after Fred's death.

When they had finished they decided a walk was in order to digest their food. The summer weather was perfect at this hour and with their stomachs content each felt lighthearted. As they ambled along the city streets they talked of menial things such as quidditch and Harry learned a number of facts about his new friend. For one he discovered Cyrus loved to fly but he didn't enjoy playing many sports, much preferring to watch instead. He did dabble in fencing and boxing but he didn't compete in tournaments. The music industry is competition enough he said; famous or not. His worst subject in school is Potions and his best is Fine and Performing Arts.

"Why is it that art students are never any good with potions or herbology?" Harry wondered aloud.

Without missing a beat Cyrus answered, "Different parts of the brain. Potions and herbology are all about logic and art is all about creativity. For some people one part of the brain dominates the other."

Harry nodded, "That makes sense, you can't really get creative with potions or you might blow something up."

Cyrus chuckled, "That's true unless you're my father. He's a master at potions."

"And you're failing that class?"

Cyrus grinned, "What Padre doesn't know doesn't hurt him...or me for that matter."

* * *

Harry returned home around nine thirty and the only one in sight was his Uncle dozing in front of the television. He silently congratulated himself on his timing. About this

hour Aunt Petunia will have finished her bath and be settled in bed reading the next chapter in whatever romance novel she was nose-deep in. She wouldn't notice him using the bathroom and going to his room. Sighing in relief at having avoided confrontation with his aunt he thought back over the last few hours he spent with Cyrus. His eyes were alight as he contemplated the events of the evening in his mind until he fell asleep; for once he did so peacefully.


	5. Dance Like Nobody's Watching

Cyrus trudged heavily down the stairs of father's small, dreary home. His long hair desperately needed a brushing but since it was 8:30 in the morning during summer he wasn't doing anything until he had a cup of coffee. He shuffled past the moth-eaten couch, reminded by his usual grumpy morning attitude that he despised the thing. He took a moment to glare at it disdainfully before continuing on his way to the kitchen. Pouring a cup of coffee from the ancient steel kettle he plopped down gracelessly across from his father at the small, wooden table. It shook slightly as he did so...another thing falling apart. The stern-faced, dark haired man sharply regarded his son's disheveled appearance from behind the Daily Prophet. Cyrus merely scowled in response. It may be completely irrational but he hated people looking at him in the morning. A long series of half-baked scenarios featuring his father's death rambled through his head while he took a sip of his coffee. Grimacing at the taste he rose to get the cream and proceeded to fill the cup to the top. He rarely put sugar in it but he always had to have the cream.

"Must you insist on using an unnatural amount of cream?" His father drawled as soon as he was reseated.

"Must you insist on keeping company with dust bunnies?" He replied in an equally condescending manner, the image of the couch burning clearly in his mind. The newspaper lowered to revealed an eyebrow perched high on a pale forehead. Intensely dark eyes stabbed through his own and Cyrus found his attitude melting away. Chuckling nervously he shifted his gaze to the swirly liquid in his cup.

"Never mind." He tapped his index finger against the cup. "Being friendly with dust bunnies _is_ unnatural." He mumbled, almost to himself. Oh, he could just feel the glare crawling over his skin. He dared not look up.

Unfortunately, that meant he didn't see the rolled up newspaper flying towards his head.

* * *

Harry was both startled and elated when a letter came in from Cyrus after breakfast. He abandoned the dishes and with damp, sudsy hands grabbed the letter and hurried off to his room to read it away from the prying eyes of his aunt. Grinning foolishly he took a moment to observe the handwriting and the flourished, elegant way his name was scripted on the front. The seal featured an interesting crest he didn't recognize.

It was short and simple, Cyrus invited Harry to meet him for dinner again and accompany him along with Tori, to an event called Arts After Dark.

Feeling eager but slightly anxious, Harry scribbled out an affirmative reply and agreed to meet him at three o' clock outside the music store.

Harry went about doing his chores with an air of geniality that somewhat perturbed his aunt. For once, he was effortlessly pleasant and even his jabs and jeers took on an aura of playfulness rather than the biting satire she had become accustomed to. She observed him in fascination, bewildered by the sudden transformation. His mood swings gave her whiplash at best but she had never been so willing to be stunned. Petunia hoped it would last, and while curious to what brought about the change, she wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

When three o'clock rolled around, it found Harry just arriving at the shop. He mentally congratulated himself on his timing. He spent more time than he normally would fussing over his appearance only to begrudgingly accept that it is what it is and there was not much he could do about it. The door opened and Cyrus stepped out to greet him. Harry's breath shortened as his eyes absorbed the pianoman's countenance, he was dressed a little differently today. Instead of a band t-shirt or some such other attire he wore a black, collared button down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows over a pair of black slacks instead of denim. Boots, scuffed studded belt, chain wallet and wrist bands were all the same though. Harry swallowed thickly, that shirt was perfect. It showed the subtle muscles on his chest and arms. Harry resisted glancing down at his own clothes, suddenly disgusted with his plain black shirt and faded jeans.

"Harry?"

"Hmm?" His darkened green eyes shot up to connect with narrowed brown ones that seemed to almost read his thoughts. Harry shifted nervously when he realized he had been gawking, "Err...sorry what was that?"

Cyrus chuckled, "I asked if you would come in for a moment? Tori is dealing with a last minute customer."

"Oh, sure." He replied quickly. Cyrus smiled and held the door for him. Nodding his thanks on the way in, Harry stepped over threshold and cast his gaze around the array of instruments. Tori waved to him from the counter without breaking her conversation with the customer. Seeing her eased his uncertainties about his own apparel. She had a style that could only be described as eccentric. She wore a light grey t-shirt covered with random designs over a long-sleeved pink fishnet shirt, and baggy camouflage pants. Her shoes were merely black and white converse that had seen too much abuse. Harry had a feeling she would get along very well with Luna Lovegood. He smiled at her and nearly jumped when Cyrus slid past him, brushing his shoulder with his torso.

Tossing a smoldering glance over his shoulder, he sat at the black piano near the center of the room, patting the space on the bench next to him. Harry hesitated a moment before accepting the invitation. The bench was meant to support two people but Cyrus sat close to the middle which forced Harry to sit so their legs were touching otherwise he would fall off. When the pianoman did not scoot over to make more room Harry wondered if this was done on purpose. He hoped so.

Cyrus shook his arms and wiggled his fingers before settling into position on the keys. When he began to play, the melody was quick, but somber. It didn't require a great deal of arm movement fortunately, so gratefully Harry didn't have to move away. He took a deep breath as the music washed over him. Little by little the tension inched from his body. His nerves seemed to vibrate with each solid note. Breathing evenly, his eyelids heavy, he let his mind be consumed by the sound of the piano, the scent of the piano player and the warmth that eased his chilled spirit. His heart provided the bass, his blood the tempo, his pulse the time, thrumming his fiery heartstrings. When the piano was was silenced the music continued to reverberate beneath his skin like the warm, lingering taste of spice after drinking apple cider.

Harry awakened from his reverie and discovered himself to be under intense scrutiny. Two sets of eyes regarded him in a sense that made him uneasy, as though they had dissected him and knew every millimeter of his organs and the exact function of his brain. Tori crossed her arms over her small chest and looked smug as if she had won something. The customer had left a few moments ago and she turned about, mumbling something about getting her purse, Cyrus's eyes never left his face. Blushing with embarrassment, Harry turned his gaze into his lap and cleared his throat.

"I really like piano music." He said in a small voice.

"I can see that." Cyrus responded instantly, his voice was soft, but had a deeper quality than before. Out of the corner of his eye Harry saw his tongue poke out to lick his lips thoughtfully. Slowly removing his right hand from where it rested lightly on the piano, Cyrus moved it along Harry's shoulder blade and up to the back of his neck where his fingers could feel the soft hair there. Normally this sort of action would have Harry spooked, but he didn't feel threatened having the pianoman's hand so close to his throat. Nevertheless, he stayed perfectly still like a deer caught in headlights, startled just bit when a calloused thumbed gently stroked the silky skin behind his ear and jawline. The gesture was so tender, so affectionate it made the air catch in Harry's throat. His heart felt like it was doing jumping jacks in his stomach.

"Alright let's go boys!" Tori's sudden re-entrance jerked them from the solace of the singular world they had been disposed of. Cyrus stood and moved away from him. Harry walked behind them to the door until Tori grabbed his arm and looped their elbows together. Once they were outside she did the same to Cyrus. She tossed the forelock of her pixie cut brown hair and adorned a grin that reached her bright blue eyes.

"This is going to be so much fun!" She squealed happily, eliciting smiles from the two males in the trio. She tried to persuade them to skip to the restaurant but was shutdown adamantly on both sides.

Tori rushed them through dinner, insisting they get there early so she could help out with the costume make-up. Harry could sense Cyrus was irritated with her for being pushy but chose to scowl and say little. Whenever Harry caught his eye the glower melted into a genuine smile. He too could sense his patience waning, but made an effort to listen to her carry on aimlessly, enjoying the company.

* * *

When they arrived at the London Convention Centre, Tori immediately rushed to attack a group of people who seemed just as odd herself, leaving the two of them to fend for themselves. Not that either of them minded.

They browsed the different booths and stands, commenting on the various artworks they saw. Throughout the time Cyrus barely kept himself in check, he fiercely resisted the compulsion to entwine his hand with Harry's. His mind felt fuzzy and he spoke little for he was uncomfortably conscience of his words. A couple times he stumbled over his vocabulary, infusing Italian with English and often in the same word.

There was no denying his attraction to the young hero but he presumed to be well...to put it bluntly, out of his league. His mind drifted back to the times he played the piano for Harry. He seemed to absorb the harmony with such intensity that the wizard appeared to vibrate just as though his very bones echoed the sound. Undeniably it remains to be the most beautiful phenomenon he had ever seen.

"Guys, you have to see this!" Tori popped into their view and seized their arms. They allowed her tug them along, weaving through the crowd. She led them up two flights of stairs, the crowd was thin on this level. Cyrus picked up on the distant music and instantly took the lead in seeking out the source. They went through a set of double doors and encountered a room drowning in drum bass. In the center of the large room a circle of six drummers with instruments of varying degrees of size and make. An obese, dark-skinned man seemed to be the lead with the largest drum which he had to carry strapped to his shoulder in front of his chest. He set the rhythm and one by one the others mimicked at different paces.

Tori was trying to tell him something but he couldn't hear her over the music even with her yelling. He bent over so she could talk into his ear, "Let's go dance in the middle!" Grinning he nodded, she raced ahead, he turned to Harry and with much pulling and effort managed to get him to into the ring of drums. He pulled him close and put his lips against the short man's ear.

"Don't think, just move, just do something!" He moved back and danced beside Tori. He knew they must look ridiculous, after all he wasn't experienced with informal dancing. Harry laughed and, feeling shy began to leave but Cyrus rushed forward and dragged him back. This time, giving in to his impulses he held Harry against him.

"Let go, move with me, amore!" Reluctantly, Harry loosened and moved his feet then he shook his head and yelled, "I can't dance!"

"Neither can I!" Cyrus laughed. Harry let himself be immersed the beat of the drums around him and submitted to the music. He stepped, swayed, whirled and jumped, laughing along with his companions. He careened against Cyrus and they spun around, grinning, moving against one another. Shot with high levels of energy, the thrill of being watched as they made fools of themselves they danced until the music stopped. Tori fell to the floor while Cyrus and Harry embraced, panting heavily and laughing helplessly. Their foreheads met as they leaned against each other for support of their exhausted bodies. Cyrus closed his eyes and tightened the encircled of his arms around Harry. He felt the contours of Harry's quivering body pressed along his own with astonishing sensitivity.

The sound of raucous applause shocked them into becoming concious of their position. Laughing they bowed and hurried out the room away from all the attention.

"That was brilliant!" Harry exclaimed, radiating laughter still. They grinned broadly at each other.

"Aren't you glad you danced?" Tori probed, punching him playfully on the arm. Cyrus picked at the locks of hair stuck to the light sheen of sweat.

"Definitely!"

* * *

The train ride back to Burlington Street was a silent but amiable affair. They stayed at the convention centre until after nine. Harry rest his head wearily on Cyrus's shoulder, completely content. Cyrus in turn, looked fondly at him before shifting his gaze to peer out the window. His eyes drifted over to Tori who sat adjacent to them. She wiggled in her seat, smiling broadly them, hands clasped tightly together beneath her chin.

"What?" Cyrus challenged.

She shook her head, "Noooothing." she said, however her tone implied the opposite. Narrowing his eyes suspiciously he decided it was probably best not to pry.

After they saw Tori to her apartment, which was situated right above the shop. Cyrus and Harry moved down the street a little ways.

"Are you apparating?" Harry asked.

"No, I'm not licensed in the UK. Mio padre promised he would leave his car around the corner. He doesn't like me to take the Knight Bus. I could drive you home if you'd like? Though apparating would be much faster." Cyrus hoped he wouldn't ask why his father was opposed to his using the Knight bus. He couldn't very well tell him it was because his father didn't want anyone in the wizarding world discovering where they live.

Harry nodded, "I'd like that." He more liked the idea of spending a little more time with Cyrus.

The British-Italian musician grinned, "Grande."

Once again the trip was mostly quiet, consisting of meaningful glances, until they reached Surrey and Harry had to instruct him on where to go.

Grimacing Cyrus, surveyed the architecture, perfectly manicured lawns and commented, "Scarily monotone, this place. This neighborhood is the epitome of conformity. It's extremely disturbing."

Harry snorted, "You have no idea. Right over there, number 4." Cyrus pulled the car over to the curb and placed it in park. Sighing he looked at Harry who unbuckled his seat belt but made no move to get out.

"I had a really good time. I haven't had that much fun in ages." Harry raised his eyes to peer at through the shadows.

Cyrus reached over to grasp his hand and squeezed, "So did I." He whispered. Letting go of his hand he brushed his fingertips across Harry's bangs. His eyes did not linger on the scar as Harry suspected he would. "May I contact you tomorrow? You live with muggles, si?"

"Yeah...owl post will be fine. My family knows about the wizarding world. My aunt doesn't much like owls flying into the kitchen, though. I'll send you the house number, I don't know it by heart."

"Bene, thank you."

Harry lingered a moment longer before saying goodnight and exiting the car. Cyrus waited until he got inside the house before driving home. By the time he walked in the door it was half past eleven, he only just realized this as he glance at the clock on the mantle. Wincing, he didn't need to look to his right to know his father was sitting in his favorite chair set in the shadowy corner between two floor to ceiling bookcases.

"Cazzo." He cursed beneath his breath.

"Indeed." Came the drawn out response.

**A/N:** Here it is finally! Please please PLEASE review, I'm getting irritated with the lack of feedback. I know it's only the fifth chapter but I'd like to see things from the readers perspective.

Once again, many thanks to Clarrolx for being a terrific beta and great friend. I recommend checking out her stories, it would a shame to miss out on her writing.

Translations:

Si - Yes

Cazzo - Fuck

Bene - Cool or good

Grande - Great

Amore - Love


	6. Magnetism

**Clarrolx: *dancing around in joy* Yay! Yay! Yay! The chapter is out~! The chapter is out! XD**

**Princely: *WHACKS*  
**

**IMPORTANT**: I originally set back the time line by a year but it's created so many problems and plot holes not even relevant to the story. SO I'm sticking pretty close to the canon sequence of events. This is still AU obviously.

Enjoy.

* * *

As usual Harry sat in his bedroom Monday morning, two days after the Art excursion, contemplating the ever-present predicament manifesting itself in the form a certain eccentric farmhouse filled with the most peculiar, and affectionate breed of gingers. He glanced at his pillow, he would have to mend that hole in the corner. Oddly enough he'd taken to chewing it whilst asleep. That line of thinking of course led to Cyrus, as all things did. Harry groaned and let his head fall to the desk with a thud. The feeling of the cool, scarred wooden desk against his skin made him think of Cyrus' forehead against his own, sweaty and smooth. His breath fanned onto the desk: his breath mingled with the pianoman's. His hands rose to grip the edge of the sturdy desktop: Cyrus' shoulders. Harry leaned closer, moving up until he was at the edge of his seat, his chest pressed between where his hands were, a warm churning in his stomach. He groaned again.

"Harry!" A voice and the knock on the door that followed startled him from his daydream. "Harry! Do you have those letters finished? I'm leaving for the post office now!" His aunt called.

"Err…" Harry glanced awkwardly down at his lap then ran his gaze wildly over the clutter of parchment on his desk. "Yeah! Just a moment!" He shuffled haphazardly through the mess, dipping a few fingers of his right hand in ink, grabbing for the right documents. The response to the Weasley's was yet unfinished (at least he was writing it) and to his dismay, he didn't think to ask for Cyrus' last name or address therefore the only way he could send either of the letters was by owl post…but he didn't have an owl he thought miserably. He closed his eyes. Anguish struck hard in his heart, his chest felt like it was impaled. He focused on breathing, it hurt but it would pass.

_Hedwig…Fred…Dobby…Remus…Tonks…Sirius…Dumbledore…_

"Harry?" His aunt called softly beside him. He hadn't even heard her come in. Petunia frowned in concern but knew better than to touch him when he was like this. He wouldn't accept it, especially not from her. As always these days she wished for the umpteenth time she hadn't been so blinded by the envy held for her beloved, long dead little sister. She regretted not treating him better. It was only when he came back more forlorn, lost and torn up inside than she had ever seen him that she finally realized she missed out on a remarkable person. To think she only attributed further to his troubled life…all she could do now was stand by offering silent support while he trembled with grief.

"Go." He wrung out, thickly. She hesitated but nodded, leaving the room slowly. Looking back over her shoulder she shook her head and with a sad sigh, closed the door on him and his misery.

Later that day Harry glanced across the street to the Leaky Cauldron, a wary look in his eyes. No one mingling about had noticed him yet but it was only a matter of time he thought uneasily. He reached back and fingered the letters in his back pocket. One was of the utmost importance. He had an agreement with Andromeda that he would finish school; acquire a steady job and home before taking care of Teddy. Nonetheless, he wanted to know how the infant and his grandmother were getting along. He wondered if Cyrus liked children. From all outward appearances Harry doubted it but the pianoman was kind, gentle if a bit irritating in the way he smiled like he knew everything Harry was thinking.

Gathering his infamous courage he stepped over to the crosswalk. He was going to hurry to the owlery, ignore the stares, hope no one bothers him…The signal to walk blinked on and Harry was seen stalking through the crowd in the opposite direction. He couldn't do it the anxiety was too much.

He stopped to kick a building, frustrated further when it didn't quiver nor behold his self-loathing. He growled and threw his back against it, it still didn't budge and for a moment he considered what it meant that he had expected it to. He hated being this way.

Now how far is Burlington Street from here?

As he stepped into the shop, his nose was filled with the smell of brass cleaner and wood from the acoustics. Once again there weren't any customers to grace the instruments with their illustrious, music-adoring presence but it was still early. In other words: no Cyrus. No one else in the shop could possibly win such avid attention.

"HI HARRY!"

But some were determined to try.

He turned the cheerful storeowner who had sang out to him. "Hi, Tori." He intoned, melancholy. "Hey is Cyrus coming to work today?" He asked as he wandered up the counter, resting his elbows on it. Tori drew in a breath, opened her mouth, no doubt to give an unnecessarily boisterous reply then shut it quickly and sprouted a Cheshire grin.

"YES! Actually, he should be here soon if you'd like to wait?"

Harry's mood immediately improved, "Yeah! Sure, thanks, anything I can help with?"

"You're so sweet! There is something you can do for me. Just a quick favor!" She hurriedly added.

"No problem, I'd be happy to help."

"Cool! Just hold down the fort for about five minutes. I gotta make a phone call to a manufacturer. Careless shipping and stuff!" Before he could respond she bounced back into the storeroom. When she popped out again she was humming and spun around the counter to throw her arms around Harry and squeezed as hard as she could. He chuckled and hugged her back, patting her gently on the head.

"Why are you so happy?"

She sighed dramatically, "Love is a beautiful, happy thing." She pulled back and danced away, gliding between instrument displays. Fixing little things here and there, admonished a couple of them as if inanimate objects could understand her displeasure. Harry could only watch, befuddled. _Love?_

It wasn't long before the bell above the door rang to announce new company and their favorite Italian stepped through. Harry's heart skipped a beat; snitches were zipping around in his gut, Tori squealed and pranced over to hug him. Cyrus caught her mid leap and spun on the spot, making her giggle. "Missed you too, Tori, it's been forever, ya know, like a whole two days." He droned sarcastically.

"AWW! I love you too!" She cried.

"Ok, don't get cute." He pushed her away gently. She took off for the storeroom again yelling, "I hear ringing!"

Cyrus snickered, moving closer to Harry until he was standing just inches away from him. Harry gulped, his eyes darted between the pianoman's cupids bow lips and intense, molten chocolate brown eyes. Cyrus leaned closer, raising his right arm, stretching it past Harry's shoulder, brushing against it. His eyes never left Harry's face.

He pulled back slowly; Harry wanted to move with him but managed to have the control to keep still. As Cyrus stepped away, Harry saw in his hand a tuning lever. Smirking, the taller man saunter over to the piano and began the work his magic on it. Harry watched him, his hands as they ran along the piano top, his back as bent over, taking in the strong shape of his legs in those tight gray jeans, trailing upwards to-

"Hand me the tuning fork?"

Harry's eyes snapped up to his face, noting that he wore that same irritating all-knowing expression, "Uhh, sorry, where is it?"

"The counter on the left, just behind it on the first shelf."

Harry nodded, turning around and reaching over the counter, he had to stand on his tippy-toes to reach down to the shelf. Cyrus' gaze burned into his backside, he suddenly became very self-conscious and pulled back quickly. The pianoman watched him approach attentively. Harry held out the tuning fork and he took it with both hands, brushing his calloused fingertips across his wrists. Not letting go of one of his hands, Cyrus placed the tuning fork on a nearby music stand and pulled Harry around to the piano bench.

Wait, Harry thought, if he wasn't going to use it then why did he…His cheeks flushed with embarrassment. He just wanted to watch him bend over the counter to get it!

Cyrus cracked his knuckles and sucked air in through his teeth. He blew it out and began to play. The melody was slow, light, almost shy, emanating a sense of deep, intimate reflection, poetry in the form of notations. Suddenly it turned wild, combining high notes with much lower ones. Harry watched the pianoman's face as he played. His tongue poked slightly from between his lips as if he was concentrating on keep his fingers restrained as the music mellowed then flew into a crescendo. The ending mimicked the beginning, bringing the song full circle. It held a simple beauty.

Silenced reigned for a moment then Cyrus tilted his head to side, looking at Harry from an angle. His long bangs splayed over most of his face. It made his expression all the sultrier.

"I'm not scheduled to work here until tomorrow afternoon." He whispered provocatively.

Harry reeled back in shock at the revelation. Cyrus laughed, amused by his own confession as well as Harry's reaction. The green-eyed wizard was stunned.

"But…Tori!" Harry exclaimed as the awareness dawned on him.

Cyrus laughed again, "Si! The sneaky little devil called me after you arrived. She said you were asking for me."

Horrified, Harry stared down at his shoes, blushing fiercely.

Snickering Cyrus hooked a finger beneath his chin and moved his gaze back to him, "You do that a lot." He claimed, inspecting Harry's pink cheeks with amusement.

"Only around you." Harry blurted out defensively. Then immediately regretted it. Cyrus didn't seem to mind, as his smile only grew wider. He turned Harry's face further and lowered his head until his lips were at his ear. Harry stiffened as he felt the warm breath ghost over his skin and the soft black hair that brushed his cheek.

"I like that, _amore_." Cyrus murmured. He lingered, nuzzling Harry's jaw gently. As he pulled back he planted a kiss on Harry's cheek, so tender and so brief Harry wonder if he had truly felt it.

* * *

**A/N:** I know it's a teeeaassse~! Don't worry, I'm working on the next chapter probably as you read this. I'm sorry for the long wait and short update. This is just a taste to hold you over. I'm going to go back and revise the previous chapters as well.

THANKS to my wickedly awesome beta **Clarrolx** for being helpful and supportive as always.

I know many of you are too lazy to review but at least drop a line, even just to say you'd rather eat Voldemort's undershorts than read this again.


	7. The Shoe Drops

**A/N:** Thank you, **Exodiano**! For providing excellent Italian translations. You're such a big help, it goes a long way. Not terribly prominent in this chapter but in previous and futures one it'll be more evident. Excited~

My favorite(only) beta and friend **Clarrolx** has had a tough week so I didn't wanna trouble her with more work. I had my sister beta this in her place, she did a good job and I love her but make no mistake **Clarrolx** is by no means replaceable. This one is dedicated to you.

Enough talk! Read! Review!

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Harry tightened his grip on his pillow before opening his eyes. He blinked rapidly…_is that…_His hand shot out for his glasses, he jammed them on then blinked again, gaping…_the Virgin Mary! _The light was hitting the folds in the pillow in such a way he swore he could see the outline of the Virgin Mary. Ironically, he noticed as his sleepiness receded, he was all hot and bothered. Groaning he rolled over and peered down the bed sheet. Great, he thought dourly, there was no leaving the room like this and damn it he wanted his coffee!

Cyrus had haunted his dreams last night, he sighed, and closing his eyes as he tried to recall the details. Oh no, that was not helping his situation. Yesterday had been by far one of the best days of his life. His chest was bursting with longing to see him again. After admitting to why Cyrus had _really_ come to _work_, they left without telling Tori and went to an ice cream parlor. Whilst the ice cream itself was nothing compared to Florean Fortescue (Harry felt somber because of his death, he remembered the man fondly), staring at each other trying to outdo the seductive style in which they ate their shared banana split made it far more amazing.

They ambled along the streets afterward, talking about their lives once more. Cyrus stopped to help a homeless person fix the bridge on his violin, whilst Harry made a show of leaning against his back, his chin propped on Cyrus' shoulder. Pretending to observe with zealous interest as he made subtle wand movements to repair the hobo's blanket and violin bow along with a few minor cleaning charms. After that they couldn't seem to stop touching each other. Keeping close enough so they constantly collided, placing a hand along the back or waist. Harry rarely initiated contact but he constantly sought it. After getting nearly separated in a particularly crowded area Cyrus had taken to holding his hand. At first it made Harry nervous and self-aware but during the few times he let go Harry found himself annoyed but Cyrus didn't disappoint him. He'd pull him closer every time.

A quick, cold shower and low maintenance grooming (why would he even try at this point?) was soon followed by one slightly frustrated, but cheerful, teenager emerging into the kitchen with a bounce in his step. His uncle and cousin ignored him as usual but his keen aunt noticed this further but welcomed the change in behavior. She watched him closely as he fixed his cup and made their breakfast. It had been a while since he had done that voluntarily. They did still insist he did chores, the boy had to earn his keep after all, however, she took it easier on him than she had in the past. Maybe she was finally getting through to him, she thought as her nephew began to hum a tune she was unfamiliar with.

The phone rang and Dudley hurried to answer it, expecting one of his many friends. "What! Really?" His exclamation drew the attention of his parents.

"Who is it, dearest?" His mother asked, somewhat concerned with his tone. As he spoke to caller, he became more and more confused. "Are you sure?" He asked again for the third time.

"Err, okay…" He said dubiously, "Harry some guy with a weird accent wants to talk to you."

"What!" Vernon exclaimed, "I thought we made it clear your freaky friends aren't to call." Petunia placed her hand on his arm to soothe him.

Harry did an about face and glared, his good mood suddenly vanished, "My friends are _not freaky!_" he snapped. Stomping over to Dudley he snatched the phone away. Putting his face to his cousin's he bit out vehemently, "And he's got a great accent!"

Still glaring he put the phone to his ear; "Hello?" his voice was much softer now, snitches had taken up residence in his gut again. Silence greeted him on the other end, "Cyrus?" he asked tentatively. He heard a snort and someone chuckled.

"Si, it's me."

"Oh, um…hi."

"Hi." Cyrus sniggered, "Allora… you like my accent, amore?"

Harry blushed furiously; thankful he couldn't see it. He should have known Cyrus would hear that.

"Yeah, I really do." Harry said honestly, not giving him a chance to respond he hurriedly followed with, "I'm really glad you called actually."

"I promised I would." Cyrus answered sincerely.

"Remember what we talked about yesterday? About how I almost made it to Diagon Alley?"

"And how you couldn't get pass the Leaky, yes I recall."

Harry nodded; forgetting for a moment Cyrus couldn't see it. Harry drew in a breath, ready to pose his question but it was as if something in his chest was pulling back the words. He really didn't want to impose on his new…friend? Unbeknownst to him, his family had been watching the whole time. Pretending to be preoccupied while they strained their ears to hear what was being said.

"Harry?" Cyrus called worriedly. Said hero cleared his throat.

"Harry." Cyrus said, more serious this time, "Do you want me to go with you?"

"Please?" Harry asked meekly, sounding very small.

Without hesitation he replied, "Of course, bello. How about I come pick you up? We can have lunch before we go?"

"That sounds great." Harry sighed, relieved. "Umm, come by at eleven?" That should give him enough time to actually finish the letter to the Weasleys.

"Sure. I'll see you then and Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"You don't have to be afraid to ask me. I want you to feel like you can come to me for anything, okay?"

"I'm sorry and I do…I really do. I just…didn't want to be an inconvenience."

"You could never be an inconvenience to me, Harry. Never. In fact I want you to inconvenience me. Whatever I have to do to prove how much I care about you."

Harry grinned, cheerful mood now fully restored, "Thanks, I care a lot about you too."

Cyrus left his room to find his father leaning against the door frame, a look of sheer displeasure plastered on his sallow face, "Harry? I hope you do not mean a certain Mr. Potter whom I just happened to meet outside your workplace?"

Narrowing his eyes with suspicion he simply replied, "Si." He ground his front teeth together, why the hell was his father eavesdropping on his conversations? He had too much respect for his own life to say that aloud though. His father copied his expression; "It appears you are getting rather…cozy with Potter."

Cyrus sighed, annoyed with where this was going, "_Yes_, father, I like him. Is that all?" He inquired heatedly.

"No! That is not all, you stupid boy!" His father snarled, lunging forward to grab him by the shoulder and pin him against the wall.

Stunned and dumbfounded with his father's conduct, Cyrus could only stare at him wide-eyed and speechless. He was never treated this way. Padre had always been a harsh, strict man but never abusive or violent like this.

"Dad?" He finally whispered, frightfully. That seemed to shock his father into backing off. The man suddenly looked very much in pain, pinching the bridge of nose he turned away. Cyrus stared at his back regrettably, contemplating whether or not to reach for him.

"I…apologize, son. Go, you may use the car." His father sighed wearily.

"Dad." Cyrus tried again.

"Go!" He said more firmly.

He hesitated, disturbed but yearning to help his father with whatever troubled him so much about his relationship with Harry. In the end he knew his father never spoke about anything until he was ready. So he left, casting one more poignant glimpse at his unmoving father.

Cyrus arrived at Privet Drive a quarter to ten. Far earlier than Harry was expecting him but he didn't dare linger in his fathers house and there was only one face he wanted to see right now. He knocked on the door and it was answered by what appeared to be a small white Buddha. "Can I help you?" It asked impatiently.

For the second time today he was thunderstruck, gaping for a moment before he realized what a fool he was making of himself. Snapping his mouth shut he prepared to respond when a horse-faced woman who resembled a sapling compared to the great lump (Cyrus assumed he was some sort of teenager) stalked up to the door, a conspicuously phony smile on her face. She greeted him politely but as she raked her eyes up and down, taking in and calculating his appearance she must have decided he was no good for her expression suddenly became sour.

She drew herself up, scowling, "What do you want, boy?" she barked rudely, turning up her nose, "You best not be here to cause trouble! I won't stand for it! No pranks!"

Cyrus raised an eyebrow in rebuke and answered levelly, "No trouble madam. I'm here to see Harry Potter, is this not his residence?"

The woman jerked her head, still eying him skeptically. She didn't trust these wannabe rock star types. Most of them prone to serious delinquency, no matter how well mannered they may pretend to be. She hoped this wasn't the guy Harry was talking to on the phone. Though going by the accent that was exactly who this stranger is. He seemed…_infatuated. _Yes there was no other word for it. She had meant to ask him about it when this…_creature_ showed up. Whilst it did bother her that her nephew was potentially gay, she was willing to overlook it.

"So it is." She sniped, "Dudley, tell Harry he has a guest."

"But mom-" he began to whine before she cut him off sharply. Sulking he went to fetch his cousin. Reluctantly she invited the agitated boy into her home.

After thanking her albeit grudgingly he inquired, "You must be Harry's aunt? I've heard a lot about you."

She replied snootily, "I've heard nothing about you."

Harry came rushing down the stairs into the sitting room, grinning as soon as he saw him, "Cyrus! You're early!"

Cyrus smiled ruefully, "Mi Dispiace, I should have called again. My father sort of rushed me out for the day."

"That fine!" Harry quickly reassured him, "I'm glad to see you." The piano man's smile broadened.

His aunt cleared her throat none too delicately. Harry noted the disapproval written on her face and hurried to make introductions.

"Oh, er, Cyrus this is my Aunt Petunia and my cousin Dudley."

Cyrus nodded his head and offered his hand, "Pleased to meet you." Aunt Petunia shook it briskly, not wanting to be outdone by his show of etiquette and nudged Dudley to do the same. Harry was beginning to grow uncomfortable by the near palpable tension. He was about to speak when his aunt beat him to it.

"Cyrus is it? You one of his kind?" She gestured to Harry. He looked confused.

Harry sighed, "Yes, aunt Petunia, he's a wizard. From Italy." He added.

"Do you have a last name, Cyrus?" Petunia probed, she didn't trust this Italian one bit and thought his accent sounded a bit forced.

Said Italian was fast becoming more and more agitated as this interrogation continued. For Harry's sake he would put up with it, his aunt was likely just being protective. Resigning himself to suffer a long line of questioning, he addressed her.

"Snape."

* * *

**A/N:** Oh snap, a cliffhanger! How will Harry react?

Translations:

Si- Yes

Mi Dispiace- I'm sorry

Allora- So...

Amore- Love/Dear

Bello- Beautiful


	8. Fake Out

Hellooo ! I had some formal, ass-kissing apology and reasonable (extravagant) excuse for my absence but the truth is…it got deleted. So now it goes as follows:

_Dearest Readers,_

_Sorry guyz, I don't deserve you. Really. _

_Love, _

_Princely_

You're probably still wondering why I haven't updated or a more likely scenario involves you cursing at me, probably in disappointment and insisting that I'd kindly stuff it and update to the part where Cyrus and Harry ****incoherent mumbling**** bedroom! Oh! SPOILERS! (Send me love you Whovians!)

Now my original brown nose tactic involved a rough sketch of Harry/Cyrus. Do you want to see it?

New chapter coming soon!


	9. This Door Stays Open

**A/N:** Oooh yes, my darlings I know it's been well over a year. I'm sorry about that. Thanks for sticking with me! This chapter is not beta-ed. I know it's terrible of me to update out of the blue and not even have it beta-ed. I couldn't bring myself to trouble my friend to do it when we haven't talked in so long. **Clarrolx** if you see this I love you, Happy Early Birthday and call me damn it. I know your cell is crap but still, I miss talking to you girl!

**THIS CHAPTER IS DEDICATED TO GODOFMISCHIEFANDCHAOS FOR BEING A WONDERFULLY LOYAL READER! It's short but I hope you like it!**

* * *

"WHAT!" Harry and his aunt shouted together. Cyrus closed his eyes and copied his father's earlier move of pinching the bridge of his nose. He laughed a bit. _What the hell was going on?_

Petunia was seething. No wonder she had such instant distaste for him. He was related to that disgusting boy who took her sister away from her! "I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN!" She bellowed, "YOU LOOK JUST LIKE HIM!" Cyrus flinched back, bewildered. She quivered with anger and revulsion, "So what is it then? Hmm? Your brother? Your uncle? WHICH IS IT?"

"Your father." Harry answered for him softly, "You said he was in the war. Severus Snape is your father." Any response Cyrus had was cut off by a sharp glare from the young wizard, "Why didn't you tell me?" he asked bitterly.

"You didn't ask!" Cyrus retorted, clearly annoyed, "What difference does it make anyway?"

"I want you out of my house RIGHT. NOW!" Petunia screeched.

"Enough!" Cyrus snapped, sounding very much like his father reprimanding a student. He turned to Harry, "Harry I do not understand what difference it makes who my father is. I cannot choose my parents, no one can. Even if I could I wouldn't, I _love_ my father. I know he's not the most agreeable man."

Harry snorted, "That's an understatement."

"Perhaps."

Petunia stepped between them, "Are you deaf , boy! I said ." She pointed to the door.

Cyrus nodded, backing away. As he reached the door he looked at Harry, "I am sorry for upsetting your home." He said softly

"Wait!" Harry reached out as if he could pull him back by sheer force of will (which in all honestly wasn't impossible). Cyrus paused, looking straight ahead and Petunia sputtered. "You're right! It doesn't matter!" He exclaimed, almost panicked. His heart beat loudly in his ears, "It's just…" Harry struggled to find the words. He turned to his aunt, his eyes looked into hers with a silent plea, "It doesn't matter, does it?" He asked her, "I understand how you feel but understand how I feel. He's not his father, he's better than that, better than anyone!" He winced as he realized what he just said, feeling his face turn red.

Petunia looked at him incredulously, "You're…_infatuated_ with this slimy bloke!" Cyrus made a strangled noise and cleared his throat.

Harry could feel himself growing warmer by the second. He blinked, eyes cast downward, "'didn't say that…" he mumbled.

"Oh for heavens-!" Petunia threw up her hands, did an about face and stalked back to the kitchen. "Well sit down then!" She barked at Cyrus as she went past him. The two wizards stared at each other bewildered.

"Er…I'm…" A clamoring from the kitchen cut off Harry's next words. "Best do as she says." He said hurriedly, gesturing to the living room. Cyrus glided over to the couch slowly, as if wary of an attack. He sat down cautiously next to Harry, careful not to sit too close.

They stayed silent for a moment. Cyrus was the first to speak, "Soo" He began slowly, "you're infatu-"

"Oh shut it!" Harry snapped sheepishly, refusing to look at him. Cyrus laughed mutely, shoulders shaking with amusement. "S'not funny." Harry muttered.

Cyrus nodded, inspecting his long, calloused fingers. Fingers that coaxed the sweetest, most soulful sounds Harry ever heard from a piano. Fingers that undoubtedly could-

_Oh no._ Harry shifted uncomfortably, daring to cast a glance at Cyrus, he can't be thinking about _that_ right now. Just then his aunt returned carrying a tea tray. She set it down on the coffee table, none too gently and grumbled incoherently as she poured the tea and shoved the cups into their hands. Harry for one was glad to be holding something. As he took a sip he snuck another glance at Cyrus to see the way his hands curled around the cup and how his lips molded to the rim. He drew in sharp breath and quickly set his up down, afraid his now trembling hands would drop it.

Aunt Petunia sat across from them and glowered menacingly at Cyrus, "So boy! What exactly are your intentions towards my nephew hmm?"

Caught off guard by the question he hesitated to respond.

"Well?" Petunia snapped impatiently. Harry opened his mouth to intervene but was silenced when Cyrus placed a hand on his knee. His mouth snapped shut and he gulped.

"I probably don't need to tell you that your nephew is an extraordinary man." He started.

"Indeed you don't." She retorted.

"When I first met him, I was nearly entranced." At this Petunia snorted, "I played the piano and he seemed to come out of nowhere, blossoming from the very notes, like the music gave life to him." Cyrus grew more animated as he continued, "It sounds ridiculous but…I felt like I could play forever if he was my only audience. Every time I've played for him since that feeling never went away." He looked at Harry who was watching him with a combination of yearning and apprehension. "I want…I _intend _to cherish him." He moved his gaze back to Petunia. "If may be considered worthy of that chance." Harry felt as though his heart dropped to his stomach and his intestines had become devil's snare, he forced himself to look away. He grabbed the hand on his knee and clutched it in his own. The pianoman squeezed his fingers back gently.

Petunia's expression was reminiscent of one who has been hit with a confundus charm. Clearing her throat delicately after a long moment she spoke again, " Th-that's very good and well of you, boy!" She still sounded annoyed but her gaze had softened considerably. "However, you must go on a proper date, no more of this sneaking around!"

Cyrus nodded in agreement, "Consider it done!" He responded eagerly, with no small measure of relief. "Harry?"

Green-eyes snapped up to look into gentle brown ones, Cyrus sucked in a sharp breath at their intensity. "Yes." Harry breathed. Feeling slightly more relieved, he confidently brought Harry's hand over so he could hold it in both of his, tantalizingly aware of Petunia's shrewd gaze.

Clearing her throat once more Petunia rose and left the room, saying something about starting dinner. Never mind that dinnertime was hours away.

As soon as she was out of sight they moved closer to until their sides were touching. "Are you really ok with this?" Cyrus asked him seriously.

"Definitely."

Twisting around so he could whisper in Harry's ear he asked, in the same serious tone, "Is your aunt bipolar?"

Harry laughed, "Wait till you meet my uncle!" Cyrus looked appropriately concerned and a little terrified. Sobering up he looked searchingly into the pianoman's eyes, "You really meant what you said about me?" He asked nervously.

"Si…every word." Cyrus soothed gently, to further relieve the young hero's trepidation he slid his arm around the smaller man. Harry responded by arranging himself so he could comfortably rest his head on Cyrus's shoulder. Briefly tightening his embrace, Cyrus leaned down to place a kiss on top of Harry's head. For a while they sat at ease with the stillness of the moment, watching their fingers entwine and savoring the peace that surrounded their newly established relationship.

Dudley, who had mysteriously disappeared during the whole ordeal wandered back into the living room and did a double take. "What's this, Potter? Become a tosspot now?" He sneered. Harry eyes burned with rage, within a second he was on his feet, wand at the ready. Cyrus was immediately at side, gripping his arm. "Harry." He growled out, he was just as furious but unwilling to engage in a confrontation when he had only just began to make a good impression on Harry's aunt. Dudley raised his hands defensively, his eyes had grown wide with fear, and he backed away quickly. "I was only joking, Harry, I swear! Be gay all you want! Whatever makes you happy!"

Harry snarled, "Well now that we have _your _permission, we can get on!"

Cyrus moved his hand to Harry's shoulder, "Calm down, bello. Why don't we see to those letters now?"

Harry, whose fierce stare was still fixed upon his offensive cousin, took a deep breath and nodded. "They're upstairs. Come on." He led the way passed Dudley to the stairs. Cyrus followed with deliberate slowness. Once Harry was out of hearing range, he snatched Dudley by the collar and in a shocking display of strength yanked him close so that he would not misunderstand what he was about to say. The Italian's expression could only be described as murderous, boiling in his veins was the same ferocious temper his father was infamous for and Dudley cowered beneath it, shivering with undisguised terror.

"Don't ever speak to him like that again."

Cyrus let him go and watched him backpedal into the far wall with an humorless smirk. He quickly jogged up the stairs to catch with Harry who stood at the door to his bedroom frowning in confusion,

"What took you? Everything ok?" The shorter wizard inquired.

Cyrus shrugged, "Just having a quick word with your cousin. He seems lovely."

Harry snorted derisively and rolled his eyes, "Yeah he's dripping with charisma." He replied sarcastically.

"Yes," Cyrus agreed with exaggerated sincerity, "He simply glistens with charm."

Harry smiled, his green eyes aglow with a hidden tried to swallow around the emotions that were suddenly choking him. He opened the door to his bedroom and in a dramatic arm gesture, invited him in with overstated formality, "Do come in, sir."

Cyrus straightened his spine, clasped his hands behind his back and inclined his head ever so slightly, "Why thank you, old chap." He responded just a playfully. He lifted his chin, nose in the air, puffed out his chest and strutted over the threshold like he was entering a ballroom. Harry couldn't help but chuckle, closing the door in his wake. Cyrus dropped the act and swept his gaze slowly around the small room. Standing by his side Harry shifted uncomfortably as his new beau scrutinized the area. "Er...it's not much…it must seem really drab to you."

"Well, yes," He answered honestly, "but my room at my father's is just as Spartan."

Harry shoved his hands into pockets bashfully, "The letters are over there." He indicated to his desk with a nod. Cyrus began to move towards the desk but stop to brush his fingers against the single, flat pillow on Harry's bed and grinned brazenly,

"A pillow biter, Harry?" He boldly teased watching as Harry's face turned bright red with embarrassment. Cyrus laughed and walked back over to him, gently placing his hands on either side of his face. He leaned down until their foreheads were touching, an all too smug smile on his face. "You're too easy." He whispered deeply.

Harry murmured, pressing closer, "Not _that_ easy." He tentatively placed a hand on Cyrus's chest, sliding up to grasp the ends of his soft, dark hair. He tugged slightly and Cyrus, taking the hint, tilted his head. Their noses touched briefly before their lips brushed together ever so slightly. Harry hesitated. Thoughts and feelings rapidly raced through his mind. He felt fear, desire and anxiety all at once. He yearned to move just a fraction more and press his lips flush against Cyrus's and wrap himself in his embrace but it remained in the back of his mind that Harry's kisses never ended well. They never felt good and nothing ever became of them. He swallowed thickly, tears prickling his eyes. He desperately needed Cyrus to take control, to prove to him that kisses didn't have to be cold or bittersweet. That it's not cruel to want to be with him and to show him that they're together not because they are lonely but because they are not alone, not anymore. If the pianoman didn't make that leap, close the gap between them, if he didn't kiss him now he-

Cyrus kissed him so tenderly it made Harry sob. One strong arm snaked around Harry's waist, pulling him close and long, talented fingers slipped into the hair at the back of his neck. Harry's free hand reached up to cling to the front of Cyrus's shirt. The kiss was blissfully slow and sensual, their lips caressing each other gently like delicate petals basking in the light of this new romance. It was warm, soft, captivating and utterly exquisite. The fear and anxiety melted from Harry's mind, it was far more enthralling than he had ever imagined a kiss could be.

BANG! BANG! BANG! Someone was pounding on the door. They jumped apart; jolting out of the heavy haze they had both fallen into. Blinking rapidly, Harry, nearly breathless moved to open the door. Standing there with her little fist poised to unleash further ruckus was Aunt Petunia, hell bent on intruding on her nephew's privacy. She glowered at them both, noting their slightly mussed hair and flushed faces. "This door stays open!" She shrieked. With that she promptly spun around on her heel and trumped back downstairs, flouncing heavily as she went. Harry listened to her faint grumbling for a moment then stepped back into the room. The couple sat next to one another on the bed a couple feet apart. Silenced reigned upon them although it didn't last very long for one look at each other and within seconds they were beside themselves with laughter. They were delirious with the intensity of the kiss and the startling interruption.

Settling down, they wiped their eyes and reached for the others hand. When their fingers were safely intertwined Cyrus stood up, pulling Harry with him. For a moment they simply gazed at each other. Cyrus was the first to speak.

He cleared his throat, "So those letters."

"Yeah! Of course!" Harry summoned the letters to him from the desk, not wanting to let go of Cyrus's hand to retrieve them. "Shall we go?"

Cyrus nodded in agreement. They walked out into the hallway but before they reached the stairs Cyrus tugged on Harry's hand and pulled him close. He placed his hand along Harry's jaw and drew him in for a lingering kiss. Harry closed his eyes and leaned into the touch. With a smile he wordlessly stepped back and led Cyrus back downstairs and to the kitchen where his aunt was fluttering about, a bottle of cleaner in hand. The smell of pot roast wafted from the oven, combined with the smell of cleaning chemicals it didn't seem all that inviting but Harry still felt a small twinge of guilt for leaving. On the other, part of him still resented not being appreciated for doing the same work in the past.

"Aunt Petunia?" He called. She spun around to face him, eyebrows raised in askance. "We're leaving, Cyrus is driving me into London so I can send these letters." He held them up as he needed proof.

She nodded curtly in response, "Very well, then. Be back for supper! That means you too, young man." She jabbed a bony finger at Cyrus's chest.

"Yes ma'am!" They chorused.

* * *

Once again Harry Potter found himself standing stiffly across the street from the Leaky Cauldron, this time clutching the hand of one Cyrus Snape. He never thought he would look upon the wizarding world with such apprehension but then again he never thought he would be caught dead kissing a Snape let alone _liking_ it. Sensing his distress, Cyrus brought their hand ups to kiss the back of Harry's palm. Harry smiled at him, gratefully, reminded that he wasn't about to face the world alone. Sighing heavily, they moved to the edge of the street. He felt dizzy and his heart fluttered as they crossed, the edges of panic attack closing in on him. He could feel his body tensing, preparing to either freeze on the stop or blindly runaway but Cyrus stayed firm and guided him along until they reached the other side. He stopped them and turned to Harry. With his free hand Cyrus ran his fingers soothingly through Harry's messy black locks. He rested his hand on Harry's neck, stroking his cheek with his thumb.

"You can do this, amore." He infirmed, emphasizing his words by shaking Harry a little. "I'm here, I'm right beside you the whole time. Even if it means I have to kick someone's ass while holding your hand, I won't let go ok?"

Harry chuckled and nodded, "Let's go."

**A/N:** Ooohhh nooooooo another cliffhanger! Damn! What happens? Does Harry faint in the pub? Does Cyrus have to kill some overbearing witch or wizard who comes too close to his precious Harry? Will a distressing reporter come to harass them? Will there be more kisses and music and cake? Will Aunt Petunia ever let them close the door?


End file.
